Broken
by XxBurning RosexX
Summary: When Blaine Anderson was a little boy, his Grandmama would tell him stories of angels. When he sees Kurt, Blaine believes again. Triggers: mentions of self-harm
1. Belief

Broken

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the recognisable characters or storylines in this

A/N: this is my first time writing an AU like this so enjoy!

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><p>When Blaine Anderson was a little boy, his grandmama would tell him stories of angels. Angels with ivory wings and pure, shining souls. Angels that sang with heart-breaking voices, angels that wore porcelain masks to cover their broken, sad faces. Blaine always believed in angels. But, slowly, his belief faltered. The little boy that wished for angels every night slowly disappeared behind the seemingly confident, talented teenager who never told anyone his secrets.<p>

And he had many secrets.

When Blaine was seven, his Grandmama died. That was when he almost stopped believing. But grandpapa told him that Grandmama went to heaven, to _become_ and angel.

Little Blaine Anderson didn't know why he didn't believe his Grandpapa.

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><p>When Blaine was ten, his brother turned eighteen. His older brother always protected him. Always. He was <em>sure<em> that he's never leave him unprotected.

Then he left two days after his birthday.

He never came back.

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><p>At twelve, Blaine was sure that he was different. Not because he was a little bit shorter than the other boys in his class or he liked musicals and singing. But because he liked <em>boys<em>. Not girls, _boys_. Hadn't daddy said that boy who liked other boys were wrong? He sure hoped not. Blaine was terrified. His brother wasn't there to help, his mother was always at work and his dad would surely punish him.

Twelve year old Blaine Anderson just _didn't know what to do._

Then he was taunted. And the taunting turned into locker shoves, getting his glasses flushed down the toilet. Getting called these horrible _names_ that he didn't even know the _meanings_ of.

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><p>When he was fourteen, there was the catastrophe that was the Sadie Hawkins dance. That was what made his father snap. This proved that his son was gay. He could <em>not<em> have a gay son. One had already run off to pursue a career in _music_, of all things. Having a gay son would only jeopardize the future of his company.

Then his mother snapped too.

She refused to let her husband treat their son like this. Brendon had already left; she didn't want to lose another.

Blaine tried to pray for his parents' marriage, he really did. But the angels didn't help at all.

So they got a divorce, and Blaine stopped believing.

His mom had sent him to Dalton wearing a stiff blazer and suitcase with a peck on the cheek. She had this sad look in her eyes. And he felt guilty. Guiltier than when he lied about breaking his Grandmama's vase, worse than when he fell and broke his brother's guitar.

He wished he could just _fix_ everything.

Where were his angels? Where was his Grandmama now?

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><p>From when he was fourteen till he was sixteen, he was sure that angels didn't exist. He was now the lead singer of the Warblers, best in the class, earning lead roles in school musicals and extremely popular.<p>

Angels didn't matter to him anymore.

Until that one day he was tapped on the shoulder on the staircase.

He turned.

And all the air left his lungs.

"Excuse me?"

Clocks stopped.

"I'm new here…"

And he believed in angels again.

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><p>Kurt never believed in angels. His mummy always told him to believe in angels and God, that one day they would brush his hair and cradle him in heaven. Kurt wanted to believe, he really did. But it was like how he'd stopped believing in Santa when he hadn't gotten those heals he'd wanted, despite his previous belief that Santa got good boys whatever they wanted.<p>

There was just no _proof_. So he didn't have to believe if he didn't want to.

And he didn't.

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><p>When Elizabeth Hummel was diagnosed with cancer when Kurt was only six, he started to pray. He prayed to God, to angels, to anyone that he thought would listen.<p>

But they didn't listen, and his mummy died two years later. Right when he needed her.

Eight year old Kurt Hummel just _didn't understand_.

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><p>But when he was ten, Kurt grew. Not only taller and thinner, but great ivory wings sprouted out of his thin shoulder blades.<p>

_Wings._

_Wings that shouldn't even be there._

But _why?_

Nobody knew, but dear Elizabeth Hummel was a descendant of a line of creatures with beautiful, ivory wings; pure, shining souls; voices that were heartbreakingly beautiful and wore porcelain masks that shielded their sad, broken faces.

You could call them angels if you'd like. But no one knew what they truly were.

And little Kurt Hummel knew the least.

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><p>Mr and Mrs Barton, Elizabeth's parents, were terrified of their daughter. Terrified that they were different. She wore thick jackets to school to cover up the stumps that were left where her parents had tried to hack off the cream-coloured wings that had sprouted from her back.<p>

She cried because she was different.

But why should she have cried because she was different?

Only the quarterback, Burt Hummel, took notice of her. He took one look at her delicate features; soft, tumbling chestnut curls, and was captivated. He didn't even care for the strange, raw red lumps hidden under her jacket.

When their son was born, it was the happiest they would ever be in an extremely long time.

He was special, there was no denying it. His sweet, high voice and _angelic_ features; his interest in musicals and fashion; his _knowledge_ of musicals and fashion. Elizabeth had always told Burt to accept his son. And he _did_.

But why be teased for being special? Why cry for being special?

Kurt asked questions that his daddy just didn't know the answer to.

Kurt had begged Burt to remove the wings. "_Please_, dad," he pleaded.

"_I can't be a freak all my life._"

Burt's heart had never shattered harder. But Burt just couldn't do it. The pain it would cause his son. He wouldn't do that to him. He _couldn't_ do that to him.

The next day, after a night of tantrums and slamming doors, the wings disappeared.

Ten year old Kurt Hummel was convinced he was going crazy. There was no other explanation for it. Who had wings that appeared and disappeared within the space of a few hours? But he could _remember_ his dad crying, he remembered pleading for his dad to get rid of the wings.

Had Burt actually cut them off?

But Burt had done nothing of the sort.

Oh God he _was_ going mad wasn't he?

For the rest of his life, Kurt Hummel knew he wasn't going to survive. Not only was he crazy, but he was gay, which meant daily bashings from the close-minded people of his hometown. He was bullied for having a high voice, for wearing fashionable clothes, for liking boys.

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><p>For seven years he lived like this. <em>Seven years<em> not believing in himself. He had spent seven years believing that he was mad.

Until he tapped that boy on the shoulder on the staircase at Dalton. The boy with the silver pocket watch and a helmet of gelled curls.

With those _eyes_ that cracked his porcelain mask.

And he started believing in angels for the first time in his life.

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><p>AN: I hoped you liked this! Please drop a review and it'll make my day! And if you have a tumblr you could follow me at allyouneedisloveandcourage[.]tumblr[.]com if you'd like (shameless self-promotion)

~Rosie


	2. Black

Broken

Chapter 2

Black

Another chapter should be up later or at latest, tomorrow. Thank you for reviewing and having faith in this story!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Zilch.

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><p>When Kurt had transferred, he was quiet, contained and shy. His voice hidden behind the rest of the Warblers' a Capella harmonies. Wes had once described him as delicate.<p>

Blaine thought he was beautiful and fierce.

As cliché as it was, Blaine Anderson could write novels about Kurt Hummel. He's start with his chestnut hair; it looked soft and silky, but he didn't know. Kurt didn't like to be touched, let alone let another boy stroke his hair not days after meeting him.

His skin was devoid of flaws. You could say it was like porcelain but porcelain was too cold. Kurt _glowed_. His cheeks tainted a soft pink, the light dusting of freckles on his forearms.

Blaine couldn't see the broken skin beyond the sleeves of Kurt's Dalton uniform.

Kurt's eyes were kaleidoscopes, ever changing. Blue, sometimes, like the heavens. They could be a pale green; or even grey, like the sky before a storm.

But that barely scratched the surface of his physical attributes.

How Blaine longed to know what hid inside his soul.

Kurt dormed with Blaine, and so far, Blaine was the only person he spoke to. Kurt was immensely shy. You could see that he was trying to fit in. He jumped at the sound of a door slamming, or a locker closing. He had jumped ten feet into the air when Jeff had clapped him on the shoulder after his first Warblers' practise.

Blaine just wanted to _help_ him.

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><p>On Kurt's second day at Dalton, it was a Saturday and Blaine woke up to singing.<p>

_He_ wasn't singing, but Kurt was.

It was beautiful and clear. Blaine could tell why Kurt's old glee club had wanted to keep him. Feelings thundered behind the soft rendition of 'Defying Gravity'.

Blaine waited until Kurt had finished his song before knocking on the bathroom door. He heard a soft shriek and heavy clattering on the cold, tiled floor.

"Hey," Blaine said quietly. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"No," Kurt replied, stepping lightly out of the bathroom. "I was just startled. It's nothing."

Blaine glanced at Kurt, His hair was still slightly damp, a distinct sent of orchids and rain drifting from his rosy skin. He sighed, fiddling with his electric toothbrush. He flicked it twice, and the batteries fell out. Blaine rushed to pick them off the floor for him.

"Thank you," Kurt murmured, taking the batteries from Blaine, trying to push the little spark where their hands met to the back of his mind.

"So, are you doing anything today?" Blaine asked, rising to the balls of his feet in an attempt at small talk. Kurt looked up from his toothbrush and shook his head, a small smile gracing his lips.

"I thought maybe, you know, since we're roommates we should get to know each other, and you could get to know the other Warblers if that's alright with you. But only if you're comfortable, because if you're not we could just hang out or I could leave if that's–" Blaine trailed off, looking sheepishly at the ground.

Was it bad that Kurt thought it was adorable?

He had only just met him.

Kurt ignored the nagging little voice in the back of his mind and said: "I'd like to get to know you."

Blaine's face broke out into a huge grin.

A grin that Kurt would have dreams about.

Oh God, he was totally smitten.

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><p>"You are totally smitten," Wes whispered to Blaine as he and Kurt sat down with the other Warblers in the cafeteria.<p>

"Shut up," Blaine shot back, but not denying it.

He wasn't going to lie to his friends, now was he?

Kurt sat with a rigid posture. His appetite disappearing once he sat down. He picked, uninterested, at his salad. His eyes were a dull green, eyelids drooping slightly.

"Hey," Blaine said tentatively. "You alright there? You seem a bit out of it."

A smile flashed fleetingly across Kurt's face. "I'm fine. Don't you worry about me." You could tell the smile wasn't sincere, that it was forced.

If you had turned away at that moment, as Blaine had done, you would have seen Kurt's eyes flash a pure black.

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><p>Muah. Ha. Ha.<p>

Demon!Glee is possibly the best thing to come out of the fandom buuuuuuut

This is an angel!Kurt fic.

Oh god AUception.

Thank you for reading and please review!

(Also my tumblr is: allyouneedisloveandcourage[.]tumblr[.]com)


	3. Forget

Broken

Chapter 3

Forget

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><p>Disclaimer: I don't own anything<p>

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><p>On Kurt's third day at Dalton, Blaine had woken up hearing someone screaming.<p>

Blaine had always been a light sleeper, everything woke him. So the sound of his room-mate screaming might make him freak out a little bit.

Well, scratch that.

He was _terrified_.

What could Blaine have done? He had never experienced severe nightmares. His mother had paid good money to send him to a therapist. He had always been quite strong mentally, but he never knew what to do when someone was in physical stress.

There was just _something_ about this boy that made Blaine want to help. So. Desperately.

So Blaine off his covers and made his way over to Kurt's side of the room. His knees collided with the bed as his fingers scrabbled for the light switch. A dim light illuminated Kurt's distraught face. A light sheen of sweat covered his face and neck, his eyes screwed close and neck muscles tense.

Blaine had never felt his heart clench as much as when he looked at Kurt, broken and screaming in fear. Blaine pressed his hands onto Kurt's shoulders, making to shake him awake.

Then _wings_ appeared.

_Wings that shouldn't even be there._

_What was going on?_

But for some reason, Blaine wasn't afraid of Kurt. He felt hot tears roll down his face as he sat on the corner of Kurt's bed and just held him. Blaine held Kurt until the screams subsided into sad, raspy sobs.

Kurt woke with a start, with wide, terrified eyes when he saw Blaine. Blaine's warm eyes swam with tears, pleading him not to freak out and Kurt's defences dropped.

Until he realised that something was poking into his back uncomfortably. Kurt's eyes widened and he scrambled desperately away from Blaine, pulling down his sleeves, drawing his knees up to his chest, wings contracting.

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><p>"Please let me help," Blaine whispered tentatively, reaching out a hand. Kurt jerked away from it, eyes snapped shut. "<em>Please<em>," begged Blaine. "I'm not here to hurt you. I promise I will never hurt you."

Kurt looked at him with startlingly blue eyes. "That's what they always say," he murmured, taking in Blaine's sincerity. "You hardly know me. I hardly know _you_."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"Because I'm not afraid of you," Blaine answered, searching for a flicker of trust from Kurt.

"But you should be, I'm _mad_. These… _things_ shouldn't exist. _I_ shouldn't exist–" Kurt rambled, breath slowly getting quicker and shallower.

Blaine gripped his wrists gently to try and calm him. "Kurt?" he asked quietly, gently. "May I ask you a question?" Kurt shrugged slightly, still trying to breathe normally.

The question was quiet, childish. "Do you believe in angels?" Kurt faltered. "I don't know," he replied. Then his marble façade shattered with the next question: "Are _you_ an angel?"

"No. You can't _possibly_ believe that. You're delusional. Just because you think I'm crazy doesn't mean you have to humour me. It's not _fair!_" Kurt's voice rose to a shout. Blaine took his hands and gripped them tightly, saying: "I'm not making fun of you, or humouring you. I am not delusional, and you're not crazy. Just because it doesn't seem likely doesn't mean that it isn't real."

"You're awfully confident for someone who doesn't know what he's talking about," Kurt mused, eyes flickering over Blaine's hands holding his.

Blaine still didn't see Kurt's eyes flash dangerous ebony.

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><p>Kurt didn't know what came over him. He had spells like this before, forgetting who he was, manipulating others. But he never thought he'd ever try to manipulate someone's <em>memory<em>. Especially someone like Blaine. Blaine the Warbler who was kind to him and hadn't hurt him.

Yet.

Kurt's hands moved on their own accord, fingertips gently pressed against Blaine's temple. His eyes were dark, sclera drowned beneath a sea of dark, shining navy.

Kurt wished he weren't like this.

But Blaine had to forget.

Kurt let out the breath he was holding as Blaine finally closed his eyes, his memory altered. He wouldn't know about the wings. About how Kurt had woken him up by screaming.

Blaine deserved to lead a normal life.

Kurt led Blaine back to his bed. Blaine slid underneath his duvet dazedly, eyes clouded and brow furrowed in confusion. Kurt wanted to curl up and cry. He never wanted any of this to happen. What scared him the most was that the… _curse _could just take over him like that. He had no control over it.

Kurt didn't want to hurt anybody.

He just wanted to be loved, like a normal person.

To live life not worrying about wings or curses, like a normal person.

Why couldn't he be a normal person?

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><p>Let's just say it wasn't Kurt's first time crying himself to sleep.<p>

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><p>Blaine had the strangest dream.<p>

He dreamt of angels. It seemed to be the only thing on his mind ever since he met Kurt four days ago.

He dreamt of angels. Sad, tragic angels with shimmering blue eyes with crystal tears creating tracks down their face. He dreamt of soft fingers gently pressing his temple, willing him to forget something.

But _what_?

It was a Monday, so Blaine's alarm clock just _had_ to go off late. Kurt's hair was already styled immaculately, eyes gleaming happily as he turned the page of his book. He looked peaceful, but Blaine could tell something was wrong.

Was it the atmosphere? Was Kurt keeping something from him?

But why should Kurt tell Blaine all his secrets? Blaine shook his head as he blinked sleep from his eyes. He stretched, as knots unravelled in his back. He yawned widely, rubbing at his eyes.

From behind him, he heard a soft, slightly amused: "Good morning."

Blaine turned so quickly he nearly got whiplash. Kurt's eyes were a soft, periwinkle blue, but they were rimmed with red. Could Kurt have been crying? Blaine offered Kurt what he hoped was a friendly smile. But he was worried about his roommate.

Kurt smiled back, and went back to his book. Blaine shook his head and yawned again, it was too early in the morning to worry about things.

Also, he needed coffee.

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><p>It was when his last class of the day had ended Blaine heard the screams.<p>

Terrifying screams echoed in his head, screams he swore he heard in his dreams last night.

He tried to shake it off, but when he turned the corner, he saw Kurt walk out of his French classroom, nose buried in the book he had been reading in the morning.

Then it all hit him, for lack of a better metaphor, like a tonne of bricks.

Kurt's crying, dark blue eyes. Kurt with _wings_. Soft, feathered wings like an angel's.

Blaine hadn't realised that he had been standing outside his classroom door for five minutes now, and that everyone had gone back to their dorms. He looked around in confusion for a second before taking off in a run to find Kurt.

Because Kurt must have all the answers.

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><p>AN: I have come to the conclusion that I should never set myself deadlines.

Because _honestly_.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I am truly overwhelmed by the amount of interest you all are showing for this story!


	4. Hurt

Broken

Chapter 4

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><p>Disclaimer: I don't own anything<p>

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><p>Possible trigger warnings: Self harm<p>

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><p>Blaine ran to his dorm room, dodging teachers and chatty classmates. He took one of his "shortcuts", which, in fact, took twice as long as his regular route.<p>

He couldn't possibly face anyone right now. He'd break down, tell them everything. He couldn't give away Kurt's secret. Besides, anyone who heard his story would think him mad. Besides, his memory was fuzzy. Half his brain told him it was just an extremely vivid dream. The other side told him to confront Kurt, to ask him about the alleged "dream". Maybe even offer his help.

Besides finding a logical explanation for his "dream", Blaine's personal feelings for Kurt occupied his thoughts. This beautiful, shy boy was mysterious, with sad eyes. Blaine was convinced that if you looked into Kurt's kaleidoscope eyes, you would see his whole life.

Was Kurt's life a blue-black haze?

"Hey Blaine!" Wes shouted from behind him. Blaine had no choice but to turn around and try to gain control over his inner conflict and put on that polite mask.

"Afternoon, Wes," Blaine said with a smile. Once the mask was fixed, it was easy to bleed into character.

"Do you have a minute?" Wes asked. Blaine wanted to say no, but…

Why be rude to Wes?

"Of course, Wes. Do you need help with anything?"

Wes shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking straight into Blaine's eyes. Blaine was becoming slightly uncomfortable under Wes' strict gaze. But what he said surprised him.

"I'm worried about Kurt."

Wait, what?

"Why would you be worried, Wes?" Blaine asked, confused. Wes didn't spend much, if _any_ time with Kurt. Kurt was new to the school and confused, he was bound to be shy. Anyway, Wes couldn't possibly know about Blaine's dreams right?

Right?

"He's just a bit…" Wes searched for the right word. "Contained. His voice is beautiful, but he's so _quiet_. Maybe, since you're closest to him, you could make him feel more welcome. He seems to like you too," Wes winked, clearly trying to make a joke.

Blaine blinked back at him.

"So you want me to make him feel comfortable because you want our countertenor to be able to support us for regionals?" Blaine asked incredulously.

"No!" stammered Wes. "That's not what I meant. Well, yes, I _do_ want our countertenor to support us for regionals but his comfort is more important." Wes looked Blaine in the eyes. Blaine was stunned as to how serious and _old_ they looked. They didn't fit in with the 18 year old's features.

"Besides," Wes sighed, breaking eye contact. "He reminds me of you when you first started out here. A bit battered, a bit bruised, but you're comfortable with us now, and that's what we _really_ want for him."

Blaine nodded in understanding. One of the reasons he felt protective of Kurt, despite the fact that he appeared in his dream with _wings_, was that he reminded himself of him.

Not that Blaine had ever-changing eyes or pale skin.

And let's be honest, he wasn't as tall.

_But_, Blaine was just as broken as Kurt was when he had arrived. He was just as scared too.

Speaking of Kurt…

"Oh my God, Wes. I'm so sorry but I really have to go!" Blaine said.

"Yeah, sure, sorry," Wes replied, waving a hand. "I'll see you tomorrow at Warblers' practice." "Okay," Blaine replied, already turning on his heal.

"At four o'clock!" Wes shouted at Blaine's back.

"I know, Wes! You've only told me twenty times!" Blaine yelled over his shoulder and turned the corner.

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><p>When Blaine had reached his dorm room, he had expected Kurt to be sitting on his bed, reading his book.<p>

And lo and behold, he was right.

Blaine exhaled and ran a hand through his hair, mussing up the gel. He threw his bag on his bed and it landed with a too-loud thump.

"You alright?" Kurt asked softly, eying the books that had spilled from Blaine's bag.

"Yeah," Blaine said. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You seem a bit," Kurt gestured to the bag, "Agitated."

"Why do you have wings?"

The words fell from Blaine's mouth before he could stop them. They hung in the air, suffocating Kurt.

"I – What?" Kurt stammered, hands suddenly cold and clammy. "I don't understand."

Blaine exhaled. "Nothing," he said heavily. "It's nothing. I'm just being stupid. It _must_ have been a dream." He turned, facing Kurt. "Wes wanted me to pass on a message. He says that he hopes that you feel comfortable with us when we compete at regionals, and that your comfort is our top priority."

And with that, Blaine shut himself in the bathroom.

Kurt blinked, the fresh marks on his arms suddenly itchy. He wanted to say something, he really did, but he didn't quite know what. His brain was cloudy with strange, contradictory feelings. Could it be self-hatred was possessed him to hurt himself and not talk to Blaine in fear of hating himself more? Or was it _love_? Kurt had never truly felt love before, choosing to hide himself, ignoring all feeling. But Kurt couldn't possibly ignore the feelings much longer, if it was hurting Blaine.

Either way, he had to find out how Blaine _knew_. But if Blaine was convinced it was a dream, Kurt wasn't going to say otherwise.

Kurt didn't even know what was happening when his strode across the room and knocked tentatively on the bathroom door.

"Blaine?" He whispered. "Are you alright? You're not mad at me are you?" Kurt hated the way his voice trembled as he said it?

Why should Blaine's opinion of him matter anyway?

"Blaine?" Kurt asked, a little louder. He was worried now. Was Blaine really _that_ angry with him?

There was a cough from the other side of the door and the click of the lock. Blaine emerged from the other side, face startlingly pale and eyes slightly red. "Hey, Kurt." Blaine whispered. "I'm not mad at you. I'm really not–"

Kurt felt himself physically relax.

"–But why are you hurting yourself?"

"What?" Kurt croaked. He remembered tidying up after. He didn't even draw blood. Wait, did he? Kurt couldn't remember anymore.

He was just so _confused _and _scared_.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kurt finally said, the lie dripping from his lips, as if he'd told it many times before. Too many times before.

"I don't think I know either," Blaine replied. He sounded defeated, sad almost. "I just saw these, these _razors_ behind the sink and my mind just jumped to the worst scenario, I guess. I'm sorry for prying. I really am. Kurt?" Blaine stopped rambling and gripped Kurt's wrists to get his attention.

"Kurt, are you alright?"Blaine asked, worry clear in his voice.

"I'm _fine_," Kurt snapped suddenly, eyes black. "Stop asking me these _questions_."

Blaine let go of Kurt's wrists like he'd been burnt. He could feel the burning under his skin, but the flesh itself wasn't red or damaged. "I – Kurt, what's _happening_? Your _eyes_. God, Kurt what's wrong?"

Kurt's head jerked and his eyes bled back to their usual blue, his face a mask of sadness.

Then, without warning, he fell to the floor.

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><p>AN: Oh lordy! It's been so long since I've updated. Have you all watched the newest episodes yet?

Because _jesus_ The First Time was the best thing ever oh my god.

Thank you for the kind reviews and story-alerts! It means so much to me!

Tumblr: allyouneedisloveandcourage[.]tumblr[.]com


	5. Asleep

Broken

Chapter 5

Asleep

"Kurt? Kurt! _Kurt!_ Wake up, _please!_" Blaine pleaded. He gripped Kurt's hand and stroked his hair away from his face. "Come _on_, Kurt. Don't _do_ this to me! Don't you _dare_!" Blaine's breathing was quickening now. He was on the verge of a panic attack when someone knocked on the door.

"Blaine! Are you coming? It's almost four! Wes is going to murder us if we're late!" David, another warbler, shouted from the other side of the door. Blaine reluctantly rose to his feet, glancing at Kurt's unconscious form on the floor and opened the door a couple of inches.

"I need your help David. Kurt, he–" Blaine swallowed thickly. "He just collapsed. I think he's fainted." David's eyebrows shot up. "Here," he said, pushing the door open a few more inches and slipped into the room. "I'll help you get him to his bed."

Together, Blaine and David lifted Kurt to the bed. "He's a lot lighter than I thought he would be," David said softly. "He seems too thin."

"Yeah, he doesn't eat much," Blaine said, voice breaking slightly. Why hasn't he noticed?

"Hey, man. Don't beat yourself up about it. He's only been here a few days, you can't have noticed," David said reassuringly. _Shit, _Blaine thought. _Had he said that out loud?_

"I'm going to tell Wes you two can't make it. Hopefully they won't get any ideas but…" David attempted a smile. "I hope he wakes up soon. If he doesn't, though, remember to take him to the nurse. _Promise_ me, Blaine. You know how you are."

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I will. Thanks, David."

"No problem, man." David said, clapping a hand on Blaine's shoulder.

When David left the room, Blaine sank to his knees next to the bed. Everything was so confusing. There was a part of his brain that didn't want to accept anything that had happened. It was all so rushed, too much information to take in during such a short time.

Would it be easier to forget it all? To forget that Kurt's eyes had shone black yesterday and to ignore the wild, vivid dreams that he'd been having? Would it be easier to just give Kurt the space he wanted and try to be friends when he finally trusted him?

Try and be friends?

Blaine dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. Try and be friends. Who was he kidding? Never mind the voices and the dreams and the eyes. He couldn't look at Kurt anymore without that painful twinge in his chest. He didn't know why. He hardly knew _Kurt_. Hell, he didn't even know why Kurt had transferred besides "bullying".

Why was he falling in love with him?

Blaine tore at his hair in frustration. This was _not_ happening.

But it was. He was falling in love with an angel. He didn't know angels felt the need to hurt themselves, or had eyes that anyone who had been watching too much sci-fi would call demonic. But Kurt _was_ an angel.

The rational part of Blaine's brain told him that he was thinking too much, too far into this. Blaine sighed. He probably was right. Too much thinking, not enough sleeping.

The thought of sleeping crashed on him like waved on a shore. His limbs felt like lead, his thoughts thick with the desire to rest.

He didn't even bother to drag himself to his bed. He just curled up on the floor next to Kurt's bed.

"Goodnight, Blaine," said a melodic voice from his right. But Blaine was fast asleep before the thought could even form in his mind.

_Kurt?_

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><p>Kurt was having the strangest dream. It wasn't a nightmare, which was a first. He dreamt of swirling pools and of coffee and caramel; of bright, happy smiles that lit up the dark. Kurt groaned as he stretched. <em>How had I gotten here?<em> He wondered. He rolled onto his side and nearly fell of the bed.

_Blaine?_

And there he was, lying next to him, obviously oblivious to Kurt awakening. Blaine deserved a good sleep, and Kurt wasn't going to wake him up. "Goodnight, Blaine," he whispered, his hand ghosting over Blaine's eyes.

Kurt didn't dare move until Blaine's breathing had evened out. He looked so peaceful, Kurt didn't want to disturb him.

Kurt reached down to play with the escaping curls on Blaine's head. He had only seen them a few times before. It was nice to see Blaine unwind once in a while. Break away from the illusion that he was always put together and proper.

"Muh-liketh chrintheth-" Blaine sighed. _You sleep talk?_ Kurt wondered. _That's new_. _I've never heard to sleep talk before. Though it might be a side affect…_

Kurt sighed as he worked his fingers through the gel in Blaine's hair.

_Inner monologues, huh?_ Kurt thought idly. _I wonder what you'd say if you knew about me._

Blaine grunted softly in his sleep. Kurt admired his flawless profile, his long eyelashes splaying across his cheekbones. Kurt ignored the way Blaine's gel sticking to his fingers, and instead focused on how unfortunate it was that Blaine gelled down his curls.

"Krrr-Kurtuh-" Blaine mumbled. Kurt suppressed a giggles and pressed his lips to Blaine's ear.

"What is it, Blaine? Tell me."

"Mmuh-Loves you, Kurt…" Blaine said, trying to roll over. "I loves Kur-" and he broke off into a yawn.

Kurt's hand jerked away quickly. _No_, he thought in desperation. _No, Blaine, don't_ do _this!_

Kurt made a mad scramble towards the door, trying to calm his heart.

It certainly wasn't that he didn't love Blaine. He _did_. But there was the problem… He _couldn't_ love him.

* * *

><p>AN: Dun dun duuuuuuuun

Sorry for the late update! I've been away without a computer for over two weeks.

Tumblr-

for now I'm xoxogossiphummel[.]tumblr[.]com

but usually I'm allyouneedisloveandcourage[.]tumblr[.]com


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